


the heart is an empty thing

by silverfoxflower



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Hooker Bucky, M/M, it's a bit dark tho, my contribution to the hooker bucky aus, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senator Rogers saves Bucky from an abusive pimp. Bucky is less than grateful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the heart is an empty thing

**Author's Note:**

> ((let’s say that i’m aware of the skeevy power dynamic at play here and you can either read this as idfic or a prelude to something subversive idk))

He moves Bucky in on a drizzly Thursday night, when Bucky’s pimp had left a shiner on his face the size of his entire goddamn fist. It was both satisfying and infuriating when Steve had yanked Brock back by his shirt collar and cracked him one on the jaw. Then literally. _Literally_. Flung a thick handful of bills over his twitching body like some kinda mobster.

Fuck that was cool. Bucky’d always fantasized about doing something like that.

Then Steve grabs his hand and they stomp out and it hits Bucky what a royal screwup this all is.

"So is this the sequel to Pretty Woman where you outright _purchase_ and _kidnap_ a hooker for your deviant ends, Senator Rogers?" Bucky says, throwing as much of his closet as he can stomach into a cardboard box as Steve stands, twitching, in the doorway. He's too old for mesh shirts. And they’re fucking itchy. The sparkly booty shorts are definitely coming along though.

"I’m not _kidnapping_ you." Steve scowls. "You just can’t stay here. It’s not safe anymore." He looks like as much of a mess as Bucky has ever seen him, hair falling over his forehead, tie askew, the knuckles of one hand skinned raw. And Bucky has _no_ sympathy for that because it’s his own goddamn fault . But still. Steve looks far too good for this shithole. Bucky speeds up his packing just so Steve will stop looking around with that _fucking_ judgmental expression. Yeah, it isn't much, but it was his. Until _this_ fiasco.

"I could’ve handled it myself," Bucky says, bumping Steve roughly with his shoulder as he lugs the box out the door, into the hallway. "Now I’m out of a job and homeless, thanks to you. No one on this block- fuck it, no one in this _neighborhood's_ gonna give me a second look now. I'm fucking tainted.”

"Do you want me to send someone back here for your stuff?" Steve asks, running after him down the stairs.

"This is all I need," Bucky says, trying not to feel pitiful as he hugs the box to his chest, protecting it from the rain as he steps foot outside the apartment.

"Hey," Steve says, putting his arm around Bucky. His nice suit's getting dotted with rain, no doubt ruined, but he doesn't even look like he cares. "You don’t have to come back here." 

Bucky just stares at Steve. He wants to scoff, wants to sneer. Fucking rich boys swooping in, playing the white knight when they have no fucking _idea_ how the world works. How long till the scandal hits? The media frenzy? How long till Steve decides the cheap piece of ass he’s been feeding false promises to isn't even worth as much as his political capital? Or maybe he’ll just get tired of Bucky outright and shove a check at him in return for disappearing into the ether. 

But right now, Steve’s looking at him with such sincerity, brows drawn up, hair plastered by the rain. His big blue eyes making that part of Bucky, that stupid, _soft_ part of him, melt.

So Bucky shuts his mouth. And climbs into Steve’s shiny Mercedes. And looks out the window as he and his soggy box drip all over the nice leather.

—

That night, Steve cups the bruise on Bucky’s cheek as they make love.

Bucky wants to call it _fucking_ , to distance himself, but it’s always been- Steve’s always been sentimental.

Tonight Bucky was angry, had thrown himself at Steve, drawing a bead of blood from his bottom lip as he tore off Steve’s ruined suit. He just wants to feel _used_ so he can remind himself what this really is. But fucking- fucking _Steve_ goes so pliant in his hands, so gentle as he eases Bucky onto the sheets (silky sheets, fucking 1000-thread count sheets) and licks the rainwater from his neck.

Even when Bucky turns, thrusting his ass up and burying his face in the pillows, Steve just curves his body over Bucky’s, pressing them together as he screws in his cock so slow and slick that it makes Bucky’s thighs tremble.

"I’ll never let anyone hurt you again," Steve whispers as he makes Bucky come, one hand wrapped tight around Bucky’s throbbing cock and the other gently brushing over Bucky’s cheek. "I’m going to take care of you."

Bucky cries out as he spills onto the expensive bedsheets, his heart throbbing like a fresh bruise.

—

Bucky sleeps late, wakes up with the bright noon sun behind his eyelids. For a second, he flails on the too-large bed, but then, blinking, remembers the predawn grey, when Steve had brushed a kiss on his ear before he’d left for work.

With a groan, Bucky slides out of bed, his toes curling in the plush carpet.

He doesn’t cover his nudity as he pads to the living room, but all the clothes he'd scattered there last night are gone. Bucky scowls at the emptiness, picturing a tsking housekeeper picking up his ripped skinny jeans and nearly translucent black tank. _Fuck_ , his nice leather jacket.

The only clothes he can find are Steve’s. Steve’s massive rotating closet of clothing. The suits are expensive-looking but so conservative.

Bucky rubs at the sleeves, picturing the flashy, bespoke suits he’d wear in Steve’s position. He’s distracted for a good twenty minutes by Steve’s perfectly shined, organized shoe closet. 

Eventually, he manages to pull on some pajama pants and explore the rest of the penthouse. There’s a kitchen, with marble countertops and appliances so new and shiny Bucky knows they'd never gotten a day’s use.

There’s a room just full of books. Bucky spends more than an hour in there, running his fingers over their spines and feeling hesitant to even touch them. In school - whenever he could get to school between being shuffled around between foster homes - he’d been a voracious reader. Went to every class. Did all his homework. He thinks he would’ve gotten good grades if anybody'd let him stick around.

He finally pulls out one volume of an atlas, a book bound in leather that looks older than he is, only to find that behind it is a row of hidden little paperbacks. Adventure stories, westerns and even romance novels, their spines worn and pages dog-eared. Feeling unaccountably charmed, Bucky replaces the atlas.

He makes some coffee in Steve’s complicated-looking machine. Opens the fridge and finds, yes, as he had hypothesized, the kitchen was just for show. Besides the pre-packaged protein smoothies and one wilted bunch of kale, the fridge contains nothing but a mountain of Styrofoam boxes. Bucky pokes one hesitantly, wondering how long it’s been there.

The security system beeps and Bucky closes the refrigerator door in time to see Steve walk in, holding some dry-cleaning bags. There’s a handsome black guy trailing after him.

Steve looks almost relieved to see Bucky in his kitchen. Like Bucky was going to fucking jet when Steve had burned all his fucking bridges.

"Bucky," Steve says, stepping aside to throw the dry-cleaning bags over a chair. "This is Sam Wilson. My bodyguard."

Sam gives a grin and a short wave, giving Bucky a quick up-down that’s more law enforcement than sexually interested. Bucky guesses he must be straight.

"Sam," Steve smiles at Bucky, "This is my …"

Bucky watches Steve flounder for a second before cutting in. “Hooker. I’m his hooker.” He grins as Steve ducks his head, blushing. Sam just looks bemused. “Now who do I have to blow around here to get a sandwich?”

**Author's Note:**

> [more fics](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic) can be found on [my tumblr](http://actualmenacebuckybarnes.tumblr.com)!


End file.
